Types of Love

“What is love to you?” Even now I ponder that, sitting in a coffee shop spinning a straw through the foam of my cocoa. I smile into the cup as I lift it to my lips closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth flowing through me. This is one type of love, of course. The love of a food or a taste, the warming sensation that brings a smile to your face without your awareness. The alluring scent that brings a flush to your face after the biting cold redness has gone away. But, I don’t think that’s love to me.

Earlier my best friend asked me the same question in a different way, “What do you think love is?” She asked me. I tilted my head and twisted my curl around my finger, there was a bit of silence before I answered “Hm… Well in this case… Isn’t your love the person who made you feel like they’d always be by your side? The love you feel of having someone precious that you want to never let go of. A little bit possessive and easily made jealous from the insecurity of how intensely you feel?” I saw her eyes widen and she ate her meal deep in thought, I couldn’t help but wonder if that wasn’t the answer she needed to hear? My best friend had some really rough loves, a puppy love, an abusive love, unrequited love, staged love and hopefully now it’s true love.

As we finished our meal and headed home I gave her a hug and smiled “Don’t think or worry to much you know? Everyone loves differently and every type of love is different. I mean I love you and my dad too! Your love is yours to share and only you can define it!” She was definitely more light hearted hearing that and I headed to the bus stop with that thought churning around.

See the belief to me is that there are endless types of love, and that love isn’t meant to be described by words. Of course it’s not impossible, like explaining a color to someone who can’t see them is doable vaguely; like yellow a warm feeling that’s painful, bitter but can be soft and bright. I take a deep breath and wrap my scarf more tightly. This feeling of pride walking down the street in this neighborhood I grew up in is a different love of mine, an embodiment of pride. I love this big chaotic city of mine, this city that my grandfather and his family emigrated from Poland and spent his life building. This city went from a simple cobblestone to a hub of the state, my grandfather helped lay foundations, build and improve the city. He rubbed elbows with the chiefs of police, the fire marshalls and even was friends with the mayoral staff. Even now my family helps the city thrive from the shadows, it’s my pride and my love. It’s my city and as scary as it can be sometimes I’d never run from it.

On my ride the gray white clouds opened up and the fluffy snowflakes came fluttering down enveloping us in an ambiance of beauty and hushed sounds. For me the enveloping silence the chill and the glittering glory is my favorite; the strongest love that hasn’t left me yet. I take refuge outside with my favorite drink, a notebook and a single earbud to find my muse from the joy and love the snow gives me. I recently helped clean off a fleet of vehicles, and got covered from head to toe in snow. Even that draws a smile and is an eternal type of love. You don’t need to be a kid to play in the snow you know? As the bus discharged me at my residence I hummed.

Perhaps a bit of melancholy overtook me, but love isn’t always a happy feeling. It can be sad, scary or downright destructive. After all, one of the reasons I have trouble defining love is my backstory of trauma and pain, abusers can love the thrill of getting away with their abuse. If you’ve ever seen the Yellow Dress play, it’s an abuse written beautifully from the eyes of the lover of a domestic abuser. She found herself in the grave, but the obsessive love and the way it converts our minds to any problem being the abused fault is heart wrenching. Scary to think that even serial killers have a form of love, isn’t it? I’m certain someone is questioning my mental health at this point, but they have a love for whatever it is they’re doing, don’t you think? They’re addicted to what they do, drunk on the high of that insanity to say the very least. There’s paternal love, which can also lead to the fear and insanity. Trying to kill the thing they love to defend self-love or prevent the young creature from becoming a hassle or even similar to themselves.

As I log on to my computer I pull up a face chat with my friend from earlier and I give my answer “So I was thinking about it all day. You know I’m petrified of love, right? With my backstory you know the best… I got even more afraid because everything I love leaves or betrays me. I got scared to give out love when it would just destroy me later. Since I love with every ounce of my being, it’s not just my heart or a feeling. For me love is all encompassing there’s parts of everything. My mind is filled with making both of us happy in whatever way will happen, and although I have no interest in relationships in that sense… It’s the same for us, I was afraid to say ‘I love you’ because I was always afraid, petrified you’d tire of me. I might be big and full of smiles, but I’m truly a glass child like the name of my memoir to be, I’m cracked. I’m damaged and afraid to shatter. I felt for the longest time if I said those words there was no turning back. Even now I wear my glass ring on my wedding finger as a promise to marry my work; my writing, my life. To try to love myself. Which I haven’t been very good at doing.”

“I’m still soft-hearted and I try to please everyone despite knowing you cannot please everyone. My love is fragile when it’s betrayed, I am like a cat on a hot tin roof, I panic when I sense the end. I flee first to savage what is left of my heart. I turn my love more strongly to things I enjoy, my hobbies, my friends, my family and pray a little more that maybe I can take chances a bit more. I shy away from abusive jokes, or harsh environments; Even now my love for people causes me to not cause trouble; I won’t let you know I’m crying. My love is defensive, protecting those around me from trouble, even if I’m walking down an expressway at eleven at night because I don’t want to rouse someone when I’ve found myself stranded somewhere. I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn or sleep in a hotel stairwell to avoid inconveniencing others, even if sometimes it happens unintentionally.”

“To me love is pink and fluffy at times, like a cuddle with a kitten. It’s the warm cuddles that tickle your heart and bathe you with that first sip of cocoa feeling. When it’s not scary like you’ve put on your favorite sweater that’s so soft and plush it steals all your fatigue. Even if there are times when it’s black and sticky like tar. So petrifying when you’ve had your knuckles bruised by tough love of someone trying to ‘set you straight.’ The tough love that makes you bite your lip and stand up a little straighter that gives us that masshole persona, that spitfire sass has to grow from somewhere no? I find it white and pure a lot more rarely, but when I watch you I feel it. This white pure simple love, where everything is honest. We’re transparent with each other. Like you said to me it’s definitely more of a feeling and it’s totally hard to explain. But, even so I’m doing my best. Still there’s bunches of types of love. For me there’s teddy bear love, friendship love, familia love, pet love, love for reading, this community pride, the love for writing or working. Heck I love the snow, and the beaches. There’s love-hate, puppy love, intimate love, platonic love, stage love, aesthetic love, lustful love, pure desire, even unrequited love. I wonder if there might even be love I have I don’t even notice. Is love not the strangest human emotion? I love love honestly. It is so fascinating, appealing and gives that mysterious allure that only a human emotion can give you.